Rockets and Callalilies
Ryan Johnson
True conviction in half-
baked ideas and what you said he
called something like genius
organic logic (not divine
but inherent)
shot his bullet words through his
double-barreled esophagus past his
tongue and mossy teeth right in my
face you said was
red But what do you expect?
This guy with a mouth like a loud leaky
faucet dripping stuff so surreptitiously
insubstantial it can’t get stuck even
in the drain the worst kind of
philistine, can’t see himself
in the a mirror so transparent and ignorant to his
own ignorance and
yes, oh so fucking charming and
you’d all bottle his precious words if
you could stop listening
for just a moment
and what about
all those things we soared on
yesterday?
you with a silver tongue and me with
olden eyes and it was
all so real that none of you remembers.
Forum Literary Magazine 